


You're My Favorite Kind Of Night

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Series: Heart Day 2020 Prompts [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Clingy Geralt, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, sub/dom dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Series: Heart Day 2020 Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686376
Comments: 1
Kudos: 104





	You're My Favorite Kind Of Night

“What’s that for, dove?” Geralt asked you quietly, eyeing the ribbon in your hands as he held you astride his lap.

You bit your lip softly, touched his cheek so his amber gaze flitted back up to yours. You touched your foreheads together. “Do you trust me, Geralt?” you murmured.

Geralt hummed, kissed you chastely rather than answering. You smiled, brought the ribbon up. He kept still as you wrapped the silk gently around his eyes, reaching behind him to tie it behind his head, careful not to catch his hair in the knot. “How’s that? Not too tight?” you asked softly, holding his jaw in your hands.

“It’s fine, dove,” he replied. You kissed him, slow and lingering, before sliding off his lap. He went rigid when you moved away and you knelt behind him on the bed, pressed soothing kisses and gentle touches onto his shoulders. He exhaled and relaxed again at the first touch. “Don’t scare me like that.” His tone was light, teasing, but you’d seen the brief vulnerability in the tension of his muscles. You pressed your lips to the shell of his ear and watched him shiver as you spoke softly.

“You said you trusted me. Trust that I would never leave you, dear witcher,” you murmured, touching a kiss to the bolt of his jaw. His only response was to hum and incline his head slightly, but he was loose and calm and that was answer enough. You slid your hands down his arms, guided them behind his back gently. He yielded to your touch, allowed you to move him where you wanted, and it sent a little thrill through you.

You guided his arms behind his back bent at an angle, one atop the other, and gave his wrists a gentle squeeze. He kept obediently still when you released him, and you rewarded him with a kiss to the nape of his neck as you reached for the second length of ribbon you had resting on the bed. You wound it around his wrists, binding them together and cinching it with a knot.

You knew it wouldn’t hold him if he didn’t allow it to, but that was part of why this was so intoxicating – to know that Geralt permitted you this, submitted willingly and wantingly to your control was empowering, addicting. 

“How’s that? Not too tight?” you asked softly, resting your hands on his shoulders and squeezing lightly. He pressed back into your touch as he flexed and shifted his arms.

“It’s fine,” he assured you in a low voice.

You slid your hands along the back of his shoulders, chasing the touch with your lips and a hint of teeth. “Good boy,” you breathed against his skin. Felt a spark of heat surge through you as you watched chills break out across his skin at the words.

“You know,” Geralt rumbled, and if not for the fine trembles of his muscles you could feel under your fingers you might have believed his trying-for-casual tone, “in some cultures, binding my hands with ribbon like this would be seen as a ritual equated to marriage.”

“Is that so?” you hummed, shifting around to sit on his lap, trailing kisses down the curve of his throat, along his chest. His breath hitched when you traced a nipple with your tongue before blowing on it gently, the nub hardening under your attentions. He hissed as you bit gently.

“Do you know what that means, dove?” he asked in a voice that was impressively composed, given that you could see his cock standing erect, the head glistening with precum betraying how worked up you already had him.

“Tell me,” you commanded, taking his cock in your hand, swiping your thumb over the head. He jerked, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he choked down a groan. “Tell me, let me hear you, and you can have me,” you murmured to him. His hips thrust shallowly up into your fist at the words, and you stroked him slowly.

“It means,” he said in a low voice strained with wanting, breaths panting against your skin, “that you’re stuck with me now, pet.” He sank his teeth into your skin and you felt his groan vibrate through you.

“Wrong,” you told him and he froze. You kissed him chastely, reassuring, before shifting your panties down your legs and guiding his cock, lining it up so when you rolled your hips it slid along your entrance, the head slipping along your slit but not entering you just yet. Geralt exhaled shakily. “That’s not what it means.”

“What–” He cut off with a gasp as you lined his cock up to your slick entrance. “Please,” he groaned through his teeth. It was the closest he ever came to begging and you drank in the sight of him, blindfolded, bound, trembling and needy but making no move to wrest control of the situation, staying subservient to you; it pleased you and you kissed him chastely.

“I’ll tell you what it means, my good boy,” you murmured, lining up the head of his cock to your slick entrance. “What it means is that you’re _mine_ , and I’m keeping you.” You sank down onto his cock, his groan matching yours. You clutched his shoulders for balance, nails digging gouges into his skin as you slowly sank down.

“Yours,” he breathed in agreement. You hummed, lifted up and sank back down with a moan.

“As I am yours,” you replied breathlessly. You threaded your fingers into his hair, tugged him where you wanted him so you could kiss him deeply as you began to ride him in earnest. Your thighs began to ache before long, but it was worth it to taste his needy moans on your tongue, to feel him throb and swell inside you as he trembled, nearing his release. “Gods,” you gasped, “you’re so perfect for me, so pliant and obedient, my good boy, I love having you like this.” You groaned, sweat slick on your skin and arousal making heat prick through you as your words made him groan, almost a whine. “Sh shhh, I know you’re close,” you whispered. “Tell me what you need.”

“Want–need to see you,” he panted. “Let me see you, dove.”

You stilled your rocking motions, seating yourself on his cock as you reached for the the ribbon blindfolding him. You pushed it up onto his forehead, your heavy breaths matching his as you watched his eyes adjust to the light. His pupils shrank in reaction to the light after the darkness of the blindfold, then rapidly dilated as he focused on you, drinking in your sweat-slick skin. You cupped his cheeks, kissed him hungrily and he groaned.

You felt his thighs go tense and then he thrust up sharply into you, making you cry out in pleasure. You pulled back, rested your forehead against his and held the back of his neck as you began to move again, resting your other hand on his shoulder to help you balance as you lifted up and then slammed yourself back down on him. You groaned his name and he swore quietly, and you knew it wouldn’t be much longer. You rode him hard and fast until you felt his cock swell, his seed spilling warm and slick inside you. You drank in the sight of him, spent and pliant and wrung-out, and chased your own release with his cock still buried in you until he hissed from oversensitivity as you finally clamped around him, your own release spilling on his thighs.

You slid off of him, sitting by his side and breathing heavily, kissing the side of his neck as you caught your breath. You gently tugged the knot on his wrists loose to free his arms and guided him to lay back. He watched you with heavy-lidded eyes as you massaged his wrists to get the blood flowing again. Meeting his gaze, you smiled softly and kissed the faint impressions the ribbon had left on his skin.

“I meant it, you know,” you told him softly. His fingertips traced your cheek gently and he watched you wordlessly, his expression guarded. You brought your own hand up to hold his to your face, nuzzling his palm. “I’m keeping you,” you sighed against his skin, closing your eyes.

“Hm.” You laughed softly, knowing that was probably all you’d get out of him. He wasn’t one for grand declarations, your witcher, but you loved him all the same. You squeezed his hand before letting go and moving to get up, wanting to at least fetch a washcloth to clean the two of you up, but he caught your waist and pulled you down to lay with him.

“Geralt,” you laughed softly, tilting your face back to look up at him, “let’s get cleaned up.”

“Soon,” he rumbled. “Just….lay with me.” His voice was quiet, soft, and you caught the vulnerability he was trying not to show. You felt something in you melt, and you kissed his chest, laying down by his side and wrapping an arm over his waist with a sigh.

“For you, anything,” you promised quietly. Geralt was silent but his arms tightened around you. Not one for grandiose proclamations, but expressing his feelings for you the only way he knew how.

You let him hold you as long as he needed. In fact, you didn’t mind a bit.


End file.
